The Sting
by riboflavin12
Summary: Dick Grayson always hated Bruce Wayne's extravagant galas. However, when the past resurfaces, the fake laughter, pretentious dressing and shameless gossip of Gotham's elite become the least of his concerns.


**Bristol Township, New Jersey**

**29th November, 21:14 EST**

The frosty winter wind had arrived prematurely in Gotham. Dark clouds blocked the sky, heralding a cold winter, and snowfall. The chill was felt felt throughout the Gotham-Blüdhaven Corridor. Across the north channel from the towering concrete jungle of Gotham, in the extravagant but currently quiet Crest Hill, a young man strolled briskly against the gusty breeze, impatiently checking his golden watch. He wore a lavish blue suit, and a mask around the lower half of his face. A black sedan soon stopped before him and out walked a man sporting a beanie over his hair, a loose bandana over his nose and mouth, and a thick scarf around his neck.

"Taken you a while, hasn't it?" snapped the man in the suit, "Taking our own sweet time, were we?"

"Sorry, boss, but this wasn't a walk in the park. I had to be extra careful." The scarf wearing man spoke in a harsh tone, "Didn't wish to be found out and make matters worse for you."

"McGinn, was it?" spoke the 'boss', changing the subject to mask his mistake in yelling.

"Robert McGinn, sir."

"Where's the package?"

"She in the backseat." He spoke halfheartedly, "Windows...are tinted."

The rear door opened to the sight of a red-haired woman in a black dress, sprawled over the seat. She was bound, gagged and struggling viciously. A strip of black duct was plastered over her lips and coiled around her head, tight enough to make her defined cheeks bulge. Her wrists were zip-tied together behind her back.

"Perfect." smiled the man in the suit, inspecting his captive. He gripped the woman's chin and turned her head so that he faced her. His face was centimetres from her's "Job well d-."

"Get away from me!" She shrieked into her gag, shaking off her assailant's hand. She glared hatefully at the sneer he gave her, her eyes looking murderous behind the lens of her horn-rimmed glass.

"Look's like some things don't change, do they, Barb?" the man whispered quietly to himself, teasingly stroking her ginger hair. She groaned, edging away from him to the best of her ability. McGinn then grabbed his partner's shoulder and spun him around, almost aggressively.

"So…where's the payment?" He insisted bluntly.

"Let's not get too hasty," the suited man shoved his hand off his shoulder, barely masking a look of disgust, "When we get to the east docklands, you'll have a heavy check in your pocket."

"Do you recognise her, Bobby?" He asked, continuing to dust his coat off pompously.

"Well...I've not seen her before this, sir." The pair stare silently at the infuriated but incapacitated woman before them.

"That there's Barbara Gordon. She's the Commissioner's daughter."

* * *

**Bristol Township, New Jersey**

**29th November, 20:16 EST**

**One hour earlier**

Galas were never Dick Grayson's preferred way of spending a Friday night with the family. The scene of fake laughter, exorbitantly expensive dressing and shameless gossip was far from his cup of tea. Of course, socialising was not the true motive of Bruce Wayne in hosting said events. These parties were the Batman's way of keeping tabs on Gotham's elite.

Despite Dick's dislike, no, hatred for these events, Bruce had, long ago, discovered his prowess in reconnaissance and sharp instict when it came to people. Thus, he too was often tasked with the responsibility of espionage during these functions. Tonight was no exception.

Nonetheless, every cloud had their silver linings. In this case, dancing with a certain bespectacled redhead. Dick spun Barbara as the music came to an end and they exchanged a smile. He pulled her into a quick hug and she giggled.

"I think I'm sitting the next one out," Barbara said as they pulled apart, fiddling with her ankle, "These shoes are killing me."

"Alright," Dick's smile was still glued to his face. "Why don't you find a table, Babs, I'm going to get a drink."

"Take your time, Boy Wonder. Maybe I'll find even someone else to dance with." She winked at him. Dick feigned injury in an exaggerated manner, before quickly slipping back into his infectious grin. He pressed a kiss along her fingertips and didn't let go of her hand until distance forced their hands apart. As he made his way to the drink table, an unwelcomed sound reached his ears.

"Grayson! Hey! Grayson!" the clamorous voice of Anderson Reeves cut through the crowd and a firm hand quickly clapped Dick's shoulder. "It's been ages, buddy! How are things down there in Burnside?"

Dick barely managed not to roll his eyes at the starkly familiar smirk Anderson shot him. As the family's mediator, there were times where he envied Damian's freedom to be forthright. This was one of those times.

_Calm down_, he told himself as he faked a smile. _A minute of small talk and then it's back to Babs._

"It's Blüdhaven, actually." Anderson had gone out of his way in his attempts to terrorise Dick and Barbara during their time at the Gotham Academy. Dick had a vivid memory of the black eye Anderson gifted him, 7 years ago, when he had defended a freshman from the towering bully that current stood before him. Nonetheless, Anderson insisted on speaking as though they were old friends. "Nice seeing you, Anderson, but if you don't mind, I have to get back to Barbara."

"Oh, come on, your bird can wait, can't she? Not often you bump into a fellow 'Academite'," Anderson tightened his grip on Dick's shoulder and ushered him away from the crowd towards one of the balconies Bruce had left open to allowed their guests some fresh air. "Surely you've got a minute for me. Plus, there's we have business to discuss."

Dick tensed, wishing he could run in the opposite direction. Unfortunately, the Reeves family, and by default, Anderson were among Gotham's nouveau riche. Their company had a wide array dealings with Wayne Enterprises and his father was now a lawmaker. Dick, against his wishes, was forced to entertain his old foe. He supposed he could follow Bruce's example and feign boredom until he could escape.

Anderson pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and offered one to Dick as he selected his own and lit it. Dick refused with a curt shake of his head. "Always the boy scout, weren't you? Except when it came to the girls, I heard." He exhaled a long stream of smoke into Dick's face.

Dick batted at the smoke. "Excuse me?"

"Don't be like that, Dickie. Your Wayne's kid for god's sake. We all knew you had been around the block a couple times."

"No. No, it was never…I'm sorry, I never had an urge to scheme every living creature I got along with." Dick huffed, unable to contain his irritation. "Look, I need to get back to Babs, I promised her another dance."

"Black looks good on her," Anderson said smugly, having followed Dick's gaze to his partner, "Do you think I might have a shot when you're done with her?"

"What?" Dick was convinced he was hearing things.

"I know what you're doing, Dickie; trying to placate your old man by taking the commissioner's daughter to a gala. Clever. Wish I'd thought of it." Dick felt his hand clench into a fist as he engaged in a mental crusade against his own rage. Anderson's lip curved into a smirk upon noticing that Dick was far from amused. "Oh, don't tell me you're serious about..._her_."

"Anderson." Dick growled much to the other man's surprise. He couldn't keep the traces of Batman out of his voice. "Barbara is worth more than you could imagine. Don't you dare talk about her like this—or anyone else for that matter!"

As Dick spoke, Anderson stepped back and raised his hand in a defensive surrender gesture which Dick had grown accustomed to seeing on the streets at night. As satisfying as it was to snap at Anderson, Dick knew he was crossing a line. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He used every second the breath afforded him to reassume the role of Dick Grayson.

"Did you bring me out here to talk about Babs, or did you have something else in mind?" Dick's words were now absent of their previous resentment.

Anderson relaxed slightly, though he still appeared skittish. He glanced over his shoulder. Was he looking for witnesses? "You're right." Dick mimicked Bruce's board meeting posture and expression.

"I wanted to show my dad I could take some initiative in the company, so I invested in some….overseas opportunities."

"Good for you." Dick drew out the response with a touch of a sardonic drawl to the words.

"Well, you see, I've been having a bit of trouble with my deliveries. I think the warehouses are...you know. Have you been having any difficulties with Wayne Enterprises overseas business? Shipping...delivery?"

Dick didn't like how Anderson was choosing his words. They were too vague with too much emphasis on ambiguities.

"Sorry, Anderson, I'm still in school," Dick shrugged and waved off the idea like it was below him, "That's why I'm in Blüdhaven—I'm reading law. I don't have anything to do with the family business."

"Right, right." Anderson stepped in closer to Dick, looking dejected. His lips then twisted into a familiar sneer. "You've got younger siblings, don't you?" Dick nodded. The more relaxed Anderson appeared, the more the knots in Dick's stomach twisted. Anderson took another step closer to Dick. The stench of too much alcohol and overpriced cigarettes assaulted Dick's senses and turned his stomach.

He smirked at Dick's discomfort. "Makes sense. Wayne had to keep adopting kids cause you were never good enough. Ya'd think he'd of known how much of a disappointment a circus Gypsy would turn out to be. That's why you're settling for the redhead—She's all you can get."

"Always lovely catching up with you," Dick sarcastically feigned a smile as he marched back into the house. He was unsure if he could contain his anger if he looked Anderson in the eye once more.

"Some things never change, do they, freak?" Anderson called after Dick's retreating form.

No, no they don't. Dick thinks to himself, breathing heavily and heading straight towards Barbara who was now sitting by herself.

* * *

**Gotham City, New Jersey**

**29th November, 21:30 EST**

The black sedan zipped through the now emptying streets of Midtown Gotham. McGinn could feel the bite of the cold on his fingers as he tapped his window. Despite the fruitlessness of her struggles, Barbara continued to wrestle her bonds and gag.

"Did you expect business to go this rough, sir?" McGinn asked his employer over Barbara's muffled cries. Ignoring the question, the man shot a disdainful quick look to the back seat.

"Hey! Shut up already!" He suddenly kicked the breaks hard. With a garbled yelp, Barbara slid off her seat and onto the cramped floor of the car. She groaned, looking at her captor in a daze. "Ya better get used to the tape and ties."

"Fmngh yngh!" She scornfully barked, her fiery eyes glaring indignantly at the man in the suit.

"Rough is a bit of an exaggeration, Bob." snapped the man in question, refusing to make eye-contact with the mercenary. McGinn simply huffed loudly, still gazing out of the window.

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"Nothing."

"Good. Cause everything's under control."

"Tt. Certainly explains the cargo, backseat."

"Look, the fuzz are causing trouble." the man barked, "Montoya and Bullock came by my uncle's office on Wednesday, asking questions they shouldn't be asking."

"I don't know, sir," McGinn half chuckled, "Looks like you're just digging yourself a deeper grave."

The man in the suit almost forgot to halt the car at a red light. He took the opportunity to turn to his accomplice, angrily raising up a finger before McGinn's face. "Don't you speak to me like that. What do you know? We're not going to kill her, we just need leverage on the Commissioner for one, maybe two days, then we're scot-free."

"Speaking of cargo, when's the next 'shipment'?" McGinn appeared unfazed by his employer's outburst, nonchalantly turning to face him.

"Early tomorrow morning, Palmer Industries, this time." the man spoke, pride shamelessly leaking into his tone.

"Tt. Sounds like unnecessary risk; using such a big business as a middle-man?" McGinn shook his head in agreement of his words.

"Don't you see the bigger picture, Bob?," the 'boss' chuckled patronisingly to himself, "By the time the fuzz begin their investigation, the dirts off our hands, so to speak. Then the fuzz are Palmer's problem."

"And the Bats?"

"Oh, to hell with the Bats!", yelled the man in the suit, slamming his foot on the accelerator, "I'm confident the Commissioner'll keep his attack dog on a leash this time...When we have his daughter at gunpoint."

"Then business is alright, I assume?"

"Excellent, Bobby. Excellent," the man announced, shamelessly, smiling to himself, "You can imagine the cash narcotics can bring. Free shipping too. Saves us a bunch."

"Expected no less, your uncle's a clever man,"

"Oh shut up, Bob! He's only funding this shit," the man in the suit threw a hand of the sterring wheel out in annoyance, "This was me, damn it. I made those connection, I organised the shipments and I suggested smuggling through our rivals."

"Perhaps, I underestimated you," McGinn, shrugged, maintaining his stern expression, "So, Wayne Enterprises too?"

"Yeah, Wayne, S.T.A.R., Queen…It's a big operation, Bobby." The employer turns to his still struggling captive, "And you're going to help it succeed."

"You won't get away with this." Barbara roared through her tape-sealed lips, narrowing her brows in defiance. Her captor appeared to have received the message.

"We'll see about that, sweetheart."

* * *

**Bristol Township, New Jersey**

**29th November, 20:29 EST**

"So yeah, that's what happened." Dick sighed. He sat on the kitchen counter while Babs finished a slice of cheese cake.

"Be glad I wasn't there to punch Anderson." Barbara huffed.

"Man, I really wanted to do just that. But his uncle works with Bruce. Besides, with all the press here..." He closed his eyes and leaned back his head. He hissed out a long breath through clenched teeth, "Plus, he's just not worth the effort."

Of their little family, Dick would always be the one to maintain the facade the longest. He would gladly play peacemaker and, soothe over the bruised egos and raised tempers. It would cost him personally, but he would play his role to the end, forcing a smile regardless.

"Dick, we could leave now. Tell our dads we're going. They wouldn't stop us."

He shook his head and hopped off the counter. "No, no. Bruce insisted I help. Let me get my emotions in check and we can head back."

Babs placed a hand on his chest to stop him. He was boxed in between her and the counter. "We both know Bruce is as affectionate as a brick wall, but he cares about you."

"Does he?" He hadn't meant to continue that conversation. Deep down, he knew Bruce cared. But after his confrontation with Reeves, he was feeling off-kilter. Dick was starting to breathe hard again.

"Breathe, Boy Wonder." Babs stepped back giving him room. She held his hand and pressed a gentle kiss along his knuckles. Her steady touch was grounding him, helping him focus, as always. It amazed him how she could see through him with such profundity and tether him to reality when the emotions kicked into overdrive.

"Okay," he said with a smile.

"Okay what?" She tilted her head to the side.

His breath caught, but this time at the sight of her. He leaned in and whispered. "Let's leave."

Her smile left him weak in the knees. He allowed her to lead him deeper into the Manor. As they headed up the stairs towards the bedrooms, Dick stopped her.

"I thought we were going to tell our dads we're leaving. Surely the necking can wait that long."

Babs rolled her eyes and smacked him playfully on the arm. "I left my purse up in your room, I want to fetch it before we leave. Before you know it, we'll be back at my apartment and I'm sure I can come up with some way to distract you."

"Good plan," he agreed.

At the door that blocked the hallway to the family quarters from the rest of the house, Dick started to tap the security code into the keypad before he noticed the door was already unlocked. Most of the time the door was left open, but when the house was open to the public, the private quarters were locked down. Had someone forgotten to set the locks this evening? Dick shook his head. Tim had assured him that he'd checked that private quarters were sectioned off.

"My purse is on your bed. If you want to grab it, I'll head over to Steph's room to find the shoes," Babs said, drawing his attention back to her.

"Babs, do you hear that?" Dick spoke in a whisper, his eyes wide.

A click that didn't come from the heel of her shoe tapping against the ground echoed down the hall. An almost silent hissing followed as the air grew heavy and carried a chemically sweet scent that left a bitter aftertaste. Instinctually, Babs and Dick turned so they stood back to back, scanning the hallway from all angles for intruders.

Without a word, Barbara slipped out of her shoes and handed one to Dick. They might not have much of a heel, but it might give them an edge in an attack. Besides, there wasn't much they could do as Dick and Barbara. They edged down the hall, back the way they had come. Someone had locked the door after they entered.

"Don't breathe," Dick said through clenched teeth. A strong stench filled their noses, weighing down their heads and limbs.

It appeared that it was too late. Barbara slumped against Dick's back. The shoes fell from her hand and skipped across the carpet until it landed against the wall a few feet away. Without Barbara to lean against, Dick followed her to the ground, half splayed over his girlfriend. His brain scrambled to piece together a plan. We should have left sooner.

A muffled voice emerged, speaking in disjointed sentences into a phone. "Yeah, two of them…Just her?….Affirmative, sir."

* * *

**Gotham City, New Jersey**

**29th November, 21:43 EST**

The car pulled into a quiet and small warehouse, on the edge of Miller Harbour. The building was dimly lit and appeared devoid of any activity. At the centre of the room stood a stoic old man in suit pants, a red tie and a white shirt, despite the chilly weather. He was flanked by to burly men, each wielding a semi-automatic firearm.

"Here we go." smirked McGinn as he unbuckled his seatbelt and wrapped his scarf back around his neck.

"Bobby, I know, you'd love to chat but," said the man in the suit, blowing out a cloud of smoke and reaching for another cigarette. "My uncle isn't much of a talker. He's rigid. 'Has quite a temper. Best you just take the check and go. Greet him, I'll get the girl out."

"If you say so," McGinn huffed, eager to escape the stench of the smoke, "Your uncle is a powerful man." After the pair got out of the car McGinn cautiously approached the old man.

"Taken you long enough." The old man's had a surprisingly strong voice. His displeasure was apparent even through his emotionless facade.

"Somethings really don't change, do they?" sighed the younger man as he made his way to the rear door. Much to his shook, a powerful kick met his jaw immediately after the door opened.

"Motherfu...!" His words trailed as he clasped a hand over his chin. He painfully flex his jaw. He would not have been surprised if it had been dislocated. He grabbed hold of Barbara's ankles and tugged her aggressively out of the car. He pressed her head roughly against the doorframe and she shot him a pained scowled. "You'll pay for-"

"Hurry up!" bellowed the old man, "You're late as it is."

"Sorry." The man in the suit sighed, and yanked Barbara to her feet. She growled at him, wriggling wildly against his grip. She attempted to drop to the ground and kicked at his shins, further delaying his deliver of her, "Stop fighting me!"

He had to exert a great deal of effort in usher his captive forward. He allowed a hand to trail shamelessly down her side causing her muddled screams to intensify, "Cut it out, damn it!" He shoved her to her knees and the old man slide a handgun to him from across the floor. Undoing the safety, he hovered the gun over his captive's head.

The old man paced towards the bound and gagged Barbara, who's breathing was now heavy. His lips formed a cruel smirk and he roughly tugged her hair back, so that she faced him. She squealed but did her best to muster a contemptful expression. "You Gordons just don't know when to quit, do you?" smiled the old man and she snarled.

As he walked back to McGinn, the condescension returned to his eyes. His bodyguards shadowed their boss, keeping within two metres from him "Here's the check. You're lucky I haven't taken a thousand off for every minute you've kept us waiting,"

"It is much appreciated, Mr Reeves," murmured McGinn as he stretched out a hand to receive his payment. Upon pulling the sheet of paper from his patron's fingers, McGinn's palm shot upwards, open-hand, planting a concussive strike against the older man's chin.

The guards threw their guns up as the old man collapsed like a rag-doll and the quiet hiss of a smoke pellet filled their ears. A black cloud quickly obscured McGinn from vision. He leapt at one guard's feet, tackling him to the ground and struck him cleanly at his temple. The second guard proceeded to open fire but a batarang dove from the rafters of the warehouse and attacked his wrist. The gun fell from his hand and a second batarang collided with the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

"What the-!?" cried the man in the suit. The past three seconds had just turned his night upside down. He cocked his gun instinctively, only to be roughly spun around. He caught a glimpse of his captive, unbound, before her fist flew forcefully into his view and darkness took over.

* * *

**Bristol Township, New Jersey**

**29th November, 20:41 EST**

"Gee, you hit him pretty hard, Babs." Dick grimaced as he pulled a bandana off the face of their would-be-assailant, "Probably needs a new nose altogether."

"Sorry, I was sick of holding my breath," She replied lightly. With her eyes fixed on the bat-computer and her fingers tapping rapidly at it's keypad, she accessed the GCPD database in search of their attacker's details, "I should have have his real name and history up in a few minutes."

Meanwhile, Dick plucked his gauntlet from his Nightwing armour and plugged the man's phone into his wrist-computer. He too began typing at a holographic keypad when the lift doors opened.

"I'm here," called a young voice from the cave's entrance, "What's the issue?"

"Tim, I need you to find me these keys' car, asap," Dick tossed him the key-ring but, unsurprisingly, it slipped through Tim Drake's fingers. The older man giggled as Tim quickly picked up the keys. "Drive it to the bat-mobile's entrance when you got it."

"Wait, wait, wait. Who's that?" Tim pointed dramatically at the unconscious man, "Fill me in here, guys."

"We were attacked. Someone's after Babs," Dick spoke while bypassing the phone's encryption, "Might be a lead of sorts in that car. Now, hurry."

"Glad to be of service," Tim rolled his eyes, marching right back out of the cave, leaving it in silence for the next few minutes.

"Got him." Barbara exclaimed as her partner proceeded to unravel the phone's security, "Name's Robert McGinn; 28, history of armed robbery and kidnapping. Chemical engineering dropout."

"Explains the gas." Dick turned to the plate sized diffuser they found at the hallway's entrance.

"He's a mercenary, Dick," Barbara continued, walking over to him, "He's always working for someone, going where the money leads him."

"Nice, I'm in," Dick chuckled, scrolling through the recent encrypted messages. "No names, but like you said, definitely working for someone. I…I don't think these two have met face to face; they must be part of some bigger scheme."

"Oh, we've got coordinates for the rendezvous too." He grinned, passing the gauntlet to Barbara, who then sprinted to the main computer.

After a few seconds, a map flashed onto Barbara's screen. "That's 'bout a mile and a half from the Kane Memorial Bridge," she said, "On the edge of Crest Hill. We're less than a mile from there...Wait a second." She pulled up the footage of the front gate's security camera, from the past hour. She played the footage at times-twenty speed, carefully observing the video.

"Hey, look at this," Barbara called after 3 minutes of intensely monitoring the screen, "Only one person has left the Manor in the past hour, and look who it is."

"Reeves?" Dick thought aloud, "You think Anderson is behind this?"

"Just keep an open mind. He was the last person to interact with us. Did he say anything suspicious to you?"

"Hmm," Dick shuffled through his memory bank, "Something about overseas dealings and shipping-deliver issues."

"Could be a lead," She shrugged and crossed her arms, "So, we do we go from here? Any ideas, Boy Wonder?"

"Um…A bit of a crazy one, but yes." Dick paused, hesitantly. He took his partners hands in his. "Any chance you're up to playing damsel in distress, this evening?"

"Well, what do you have in mind?" Barbara perked an eyebrow in a curious but nervous manner.

"A sting." He declared, although his expression failed to match his animated tone, "Featuring me as 'nose bleed', over there, and you as yourself…..Well, a fictional version of yourself who's undercut is a lot less dangerous." His demeanour then switched into patrol mode, "On a serious note, we can catch these guys in the act."

"Right," Barbara interjects, "We don't know who this accomplice is and at the moment. They can deny any ties to McGinn and walk free."

Dick nods. "Yeah we could also completely unravel this operation, whatever it is."

"Specifics now, Dick," She clicked her fingers, "What would we have to do?"

"Um….simple." He smiled jovially, "We use the car Tim finds to meet with the accomplice. I'll drop my voice by a tone and 'McGinn' will fish for information while you'll be his 'prisoner'. Tim stays in pursuit. We bug ourselves for evidence and when we get to wherever we're going, we break character and introduce them to the menacing...Red Robin."

"Interrupt the operation and get the cops on the scene." He nodded and a sideways smile escapes her, "Gee, real simply, Boy Wonder….Alright sounds like a plan. Where does Bats keep the tape and handcu-?"

"Actually, if we used zip-ties, you could undo the lock with-"

"There's a pin in my hair!"

"Great. I'll leave that in your hand during the ride."

She pulled the pin from her hair and string of ruby lock fell forward into her' face. Dick had the urge to push it back in place so he did. And so did Babs. Their hands touched as Dick pushed the hair back where it belonged, causing Babs' cheeks to flush. The action was then returned by Dick's face. They stared in that position, cheeks red and eyes unblinking, until interrupted by an incoming transmission.

"Tim, here" a voice came over the coms, "Found the car. Waiting outside for you."

"Excellent!" Dick cried out, slamming a button on the computer's panel, "Tim, drive it in, Babs will brief you on the impending mission." He grabbed McGinn's bandana, scarf, beanie and coat. After he had dressed himself in the mercenary's accessories, he retrieved a zip-tie and a roll of black duct tape.

"Get dressed Tim," Barbara told him as Dick returned to the exit-tunnel. Tim chucked Dick the keys to the car and made his way to the armoury.

"Ready?" Dick asked, reluctantly tearing off a long strip of tape.

"Don't suffocate me." She said sternly.

"Promise. Curl your lips in, it'll hurt less later," Dick gently plastered the tape over her mouth and wrapped it around her head. He then cups her mouth firmly to ensure the gag is secure. After binding her limbs with the zip-tie, he put the hairpin in her hands. He then loads her carefully into the car and gets in him.

"Comfortable?" He asked amiably but she utters an angry grunt in response. "Sorry, bad choice of words," he scrounges for a substitute. "Bearable?" he offered and a muffled chuckle escapes her.

"If it's any consolation, Babs, the gag kinda brings out your eyes." Dick chuckled jokingly as he started the engine and Barbara exaggeratedly rolling her eyes.

* * *

**Gotham City, New Jersey**

**29th November, 21:50 EST**

"Do you really think they'll fit in the back?" Dick asked Barbara while he did away with his bandana and beanie, and she pealed the tape from her face. They walked through the pool of limp bodies to find each other.

"You're right," Barbara gave him a sideward smile, raising her brows, "The trunk seems more appropriate, doesn't it?"

"Would have never suspected that Anderson could stoop this low," Dick sighed as he removed the mask from the young man's bruised face.

"I'm just glad I finally got a reason to punch that bastard," Barbara quipped and Dick could not resist a smile.

"Should we call it a night? Retire at your place," Dick offered, taking his partner's hand, "Dami and Bruce could stakeout for the Palmer shipment. They could do with some quality time together….as could we."

"Sounds like a plan," grinned Barbara. He spun her as he pulled her close. She placed a quick peck on his lips. A red blur dropped from the ceiling, landing close to the couple.

"Cops are on their way," said the Red Robin sheepishly, refusing to look at the pair, "You guys better get out of here quick."

"Sure, shouldn't be too hard to get a cab from the docklands," Dick smirked, "I guess we could jog back to your place. Haven't done a marathon in a while."

"Point taken," sighed Tim. Dick threw Tim the car keys as he was pulling handcuffs from his utility belt, and he found himself dropping both items. "Just go. I'll clean up the mess, here." he groaned, speaking over Dick's laughter.

"Appreciate it, Double R," said Barbara as she pulled away from Dick, their hands still intertwined. The pair began walking off playfully swinging their linked hands.

"Five years from high school and we're still skipping out on Bruce's stupid functions."

"I guess some things never change, Boy Wonder."


End file.
